Life Among the Ashes
by taramidala
Summary: He finds her. In the shadows of the Theed streets at Padme's funeral. (Sabé and Obi-Wan. Two-shot.)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Life Among the Ashes  
**Author:** taramidala  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Time Frame:** Immediately post "Revenge of the Sith." Inter-trilogy **AU**.  
**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Lucasfilm and the Disney Corporation, except for two original characters briefly mentioned.  
**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to **ginchy-amanda**, **salanderjade**, and **SerendipityAEY** for the beta-reading. You ladies are the best.  
**Notes: **This story serves as a satellite/predecessor to a forthcoming longer AU fic. At the end, you'll start to see why (and that's all I will say for now).

Please read and review. I welcome all comments and criticisms.

* * *

He finds her. In the shadows of the Theed streets at Padmé's funeral.

Despite Organa's and Master Yoda's insistence that it is not safe for him, for any of them, to linger on Naboo any longer than necessary, he will not leave just yet. His personal code of honor demands it, to pay tribute to this young woman who risked everything for the love of his Padawan.

Foolish, stubborn children. Both of them.

Her deep brown eyes widen in fear and recognition. Even she knows that she is no longer safe in her own home. That the Senator's death was not right.

He wonders how much she knew.

How much _any _of them knew.

In hushed tones he draws her further into the shadows, once the funeral cortège has passed.

He promises her safety, such as it is.

He will return, in two months time.

Can she settle her affairs by then?

Give her one, she says. Two is too many.

He turns to go, to slip invisibly into the streets and back to the spaceport, to where the others await him. Then he feels her elegant hand on his arm, pulling him into an embrace. He allows her this, this one moment of grief and release, before he tries to remove himself once more. She holds firm, taking his face between her hands; as she presses her forehead against his, he hears her whisper, "Thank you," before she, too, drifts off into the night.

* * *

She cuts her ties. Her clothing, her belongings, all but the most sacred of her possessions hidden or given away. The handmaiden training program she built from the ground up, turned over to another. Her entire life disappears before her eyes.

On the outside, she's hysterical with grief over the loss of her queen. She cannot bear to be on Naboo any longer, not without Padmé. They think her mad, and miss the methodical way in which she plans her escape.

Inside, she does everything she can to not despair. She can fall apart later, once she's on the other side of the galaxy from here.

The burdens of her knowledge, however, haunt her waking and asleep.

How had it all come to this? She wants answers, though she will receive none. It's against custom to ask questions.

The only answer she can give herself is this: she may never come home again.

When word first came of Padmé's death, she panicked. When would someone come for her? She knew too much, carried too many secrets to be left alive. If there was anyone left alive to come after her.

Then she saw him, in that dark corner as the funeral march passed, and she knew. If anyone could soothe her mind and keep her safe it was him. She would wait, and hopefully he would come for her in time.

* * *

When he sneaks back to Naboo, one month later as promised, Theed is in chaos.

The new queen, dead.

Fugitive Jedi, dead.

The city overrun with troops.

The new queen a puppet to Palpatine.

Where is she? Is she safe? Is she alive?

He skulks around the city, trying every place he can think of.

A memory comes to him, unbidden, of the first war here. That seminal battle that started the galaxy on this path of destruction, when he thinks about it. The _Sacred __Place__._ That Gungan haven in the forest that sheltered the Naboo's tiny resistance.

_Think__, __Obi__-__Wan__. __Think__. __Take __care __of __everything __here__, __then __find __her_.

He books their passage, departing in two days time. He hopes it will be enough. He hopes he is not too late.

And there she is. Bedraggled and wet, hiding out in a makeshift shelter a few clicks into the trees.

She's terrified; she thought he wasn't coming. She'd only just settled her affairs when the troops came. To all who knew her, she'd resigned and left already. Roo'na, her own sister, doesn't know where she has gone.

They stay the night in her shelter; he uses the Force to keep them warm, but her fearful shivering only stops when he takes her in his arms.

* * *

They take their time, as the refugee ship meanders along the Outer Rim picking up and dropping off those who need a place to hide.

Always looking over their shoulders.

She cuts her hair, he dyes his beard. Between them they take a decade off their age.

Before she left Naboo, Sabé found some old clothing of her parents' and tattered them up as best she could; in them, they look passably disheveled.

At one of the last ports in the..._Empire_...they exchange the currency for hard trinkets, so they have something to barter with when they reach their destination.

Neither knows how long it will take once they arrive on Tatooine, how long her stay will be before Senator Organa sends word that Alderaan is safe for her. She will be protected with the senator and his queen, and her skills will be of use to them.

She passes off an air of calm about their situation, but as they continue to hear word of Palpatine's minions exerting violent control over every world, her mask begins to crack and it's all he can do to comfort her.

They will make it, he insists. Just a few more days.

* * *

At last, they are back on Tatooine.

As they disembark and the wave of intensely hot air blows their hair back, they share a look of remembrance, of an earlier, more innocent time. How young they were then, back when this all began.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, that they've made it. For now at least, they are safe, on this hideous, lawless world.

She turns to him with a grin that sets his mind spinning, and she hands him a supply list. "See if 'The Negotiator' can still handle a few purchases, eh?" she teases.

A home, check. A dilapidated hovel, in the middle of the Jundland Wastes but close enough to where he needs to be, will suffice.

A transport, check. A used but functional speeder will get them there.

Multitools, blankets, a basic communicator, and a vaporator for water, check.

With Sabé handling the food and cooking half of the list, they should be set for a few months at least. He even manages to procure a map. Anchorhead and Bestine are close enough to ensure that they will not need to return to the city, hopefully, until it's time to send Sabé on her way.

* * *

In those late nights, when there is little else to do but look at the stars and wonder how they became so twisted, the bond that formed over ten years ago begins to re-emerge, back when she was a pretend queen and he an impatient padawan.

She's the same as she was then: wry, witty, full of life. She radiates warmth and compassion.

He finds himself the same, as well: timid and tongue-tied in her presence. He's uncharacteristically flustered when she smiles, like the schoolboy he never was.

Yet he's as drawn to her as ever, and when the burden of their secrets and their grief - over all they have lost - overcomes them, he finds comfort in her arms and she in his.

Burying himself in the warm body of another is nothing new for him, but this is different.

This is more.

He feels for this woman, deeply. More than any other.

It's different for other reasons, too, now. There's no one left but him. He is no longer what he once was, and neither is she.

With all the darkness that has fallen around them, they are now just a man and a woman communicating on the basest of levels, living and breathing for only the present and for each other. It is a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

For the moment, he relishes it.

* * *

It's certainly not what they were expecting.

In the beginning he says nothing. Then, in a voice just barely above a whisper, he curses their recklessness, says they're no better than...he can't bring himself to name them now, and he isn't sure how to be happy about this news. He wants to trust the Force, his instincts, but how can he? When they have failed him so?

Sabé feels his frustration, too, but as ever her pragmatism overcomes his shock and declares the child a blessing in disguise. Their child is no accident, no error of fate. Their child will have a purpose, and will be loved.

It is a dangerous time, indeed, but because of that shouldn't they all take some measure of comfort and joy where they can?

* * *

The months pass.

They contract a midwife and her pregnancy progresses well. She is strong and healthy, as is the child within her.

He's never been around a childbearing woman before, so at first he's a little tentative. What few pregnant women there were in the Temple were sequestered from the rest of life there. Something about not wanting to unduly influence the padawans.

When he tells her this by way of apology for some perceived slight, Sabé just looks at him with raised eyebrows and he knows exactly what she's thinking. _Because _that _worked __out __so __well__._

She's bitter. He knows she's bitter. To her, the Jedi stole her best friend. Her sister, in duty if not in blood. They've discussed philosophy ad nauseum and he's well aware by now where she stands.

But what can he do at this point? There is nothing left. There is no one left.

In the quiet corner of his mind he can hear Qui-Gon's voice admonishing him: _Perhaps __she__'__s __right__, __Apprentice__._

She's so lovely.

He may not understand these changes she's going through, but he does his best to keep her comfortable, keep her happy.

There's a corner of his heart that wants her to be happy here. That may one day dare ask her to stay.

Those hopes end, however, on an errand trip to Anchorhead, where he hears from Senator Organa and sees young Luke for the first time in months.

The good senator reveals that all is prepared and ready whenever Sabé is. Their time is now short.

And in the arms of his guardian, his aunt, a one-year-old Luke Skywalker demonstrates more raw power than any crecheling he ever encountered.

His errant padawan's son has put his child in danger.

Yet another thing Anakin would have to answer for at the gates of hell.

* * *

Parting is not what they want. Not really. They sit down and talk it out. The pros. The cons. His duty. Her safety. Their child's safety, and that of the boy.

He's been around the other child enough to know that there is too much innate, untapped potential to have another sensitive infant nearby.

Sabé brings up the girl. Isn't it too dangerous on Alderaan, too?

_No_, he says. The girl's potential is muted by a natural ability to block; it should be enough. If not, he will send Ferus to attend to the children, to train them in the most rudimentary of shielding techniques. Olin can train their child to hide herself if necessary.

The cover that Organa has constructed will suffice. Neither she nor their child will ever be known outside of the most inner court.

* * *

When the midwife places this tiny, red-faced, squawking being in his arms he's not sure what to do. She is so small, so fragile. The crechelings at the Temple were never this size.

Then her big baby grey eyes open and her crying stops, and he understands. This is what Anakin longed for.

In his mind's eye he can see her grown, strong and beautiful with her mother's grace and his ironclad sense of honor, all honey hair and a grey-blue gaze. What will she do? What will she be? Never before had he felt such possibility, and right there in his hands.

He looks over at Sabé, still breathing heavily after her effort but looking more beautiful than ever. Handing the babe to the midwife, he helps Sabé to sit upright.

As she reaches out her arms for their daughter, he presses a kiss to her cheek and together they simply sit: quiet, reflective, hopeful. _Yes_, he thinks. _I __understand __now_.

* * *

All duty. Ever duty.

They knew it would come to this, that their affair would end one day. They had discussed it and agreed. Perhaps in another time things could have been different, but they cannot live with those regrets.

They have a gift, a child, that will sustain them throughout this permanent separation. Their special kind of love will live on in her and when the day comes that they join the Force in eternity, they will be together again.

With a final vow, Sabé promises to keep him with her always. When it's safe, when the time is right, his daughter will be part of his life.

The child will always know where she came from, who her father was, and that he loved her.

It's imperfect, but Sabé's word is enough.

* * *

A long kiss goodbye, a soft touch to the tuft of honey-hued fuzz on Taria's head, a final squeeze of her hand, a final kind word, he sends them on their way.

Neither looks back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Sabé, Obi-Wan, and their daughter share a few brief moments in the ensuing years leading to the Battle of Yavin.

* * *

_**Four Years Later (14 BBY)**_

Sabé meets his public transport, but doesn't say a word to him on the way back to the palace. Her body language isn't cold so much as tense, as if she's not sure what to do with him; as if she's afraid that anything more than this stiff, warrior stance - one foot in front of the other - will betray him.

She leads him through a servants' entrance and up through a winding series of secret passageways until they alight in a vast, airy suite of rooms; the alabaster walls glimmer in the sunlight that streams in from the windows. He stands frozen in the entryway, awaiting her next move, as the door hisses closed behind him. It's then that her shoulders relax and she turns to him with one of her brilliant smiles that makes his heart lift.

He lets out a ragged sigh as she approaches. His hands tremble he takes her in his arms. Those dark eyes shine with shyness as he dips to kiss her cheek. "It's so good to see you," he murmurs in her ear.

The hug Sabé grips him in takes his breath away, and as her hands start to wander over his shoulders and his frame, the memory of her touch setting him on fire wakes him from his tired state. He responds by kissing her fiercely, and for a few moments they lose themselves in shared remembrance.

When they part, breathless, she leans her forehead against his and sighs. "It's good to see you, too," she says with a light laugh. As she extricates herself she takes his hand and leads him over to a lushly cushioned settee. She leans into his side and hugs him around the waist and they sit a few silent moments, relishing the simple comfort of each other's company until the soft creak of an opening door breaks the silence.

"Lady Sabé?" a voice calls from the chamber's entry.

"Send her in, Minha," she replies with a nod.

The door opens a bit wider and then he sees her.

Wild honey curls, skinny legs and arms akimbo as she runs to Sabé with a cry of "Momma!"

She's beautiful.

For a moment he feels like he can't breathe, watching his child bury herself in Sabé's thick skirts and warm arms, giggling as Sabé tickles her gently.

His daughter. _Their _daughter. How she's grown so. How did that happen?

"Hi, Daddy."

That greeting in particular startles him; he's not sure what he was expecting her to say, but it was not that. His response catches in his throat, so he glances at Sabé with eyebrows raised.

"I promised you," is all she says.

A nod, a smile, and then, "Hello, Taria."

She grins all the way up to those grey-blue eyes, and as her tiny feet shuffle her body towards him, he greets her with outstretched arms.

Sabé leans over and glides her hands over the back of Taria's head as she kisses his cheek and rises to leave. It's an unspoken signal. He'll have some alone time now with his daughter; she'll get him later.

There will only be a few weeks to renew this bond. They'll all have to make the most of it.

* * *

_**Six Years Later (8 BBY)**_

With a sigh he runs his hands through Sabé's smooth, unbound hair and pulls her tightly against his chest. Only the glow of the moon lights the room, its beams streaming through the translucent drapes of her bedchamber. For a moment they lay very still and relish the warmth of each other's skin after a six year absence. He marvels at how familiar she still feels, even after so long without her.

Yet everything has changed.

It's been ten years.

Taria's no longer the quiet, reserved child he remembered. She's growing up, and with the attitude to match, if her mother's tales are any indication. There's an edge to her now, both in the Force and in her words. When he arrived, her wary reaction to his presence felt like a cold slap across the face. So unlike the first time, when she ran to his arms without hesitation.

He can't help but wonder if his absence has caused this.

Should they have risked their safety to remain a family?

At this suggestion, Sabé shuts him down. Not at all, she insists. _All _of the children are thriving where they are, and safely. They've done their duty, she says. No regrets.

"We promised," she says.

His fingers clench then release in her curls, causing her to lean up for a kiss. "I know," he whispers.

He _does _know.

He also knows that he's not sure it's a promise he should have made.

* * *

_**Four Years Later (4 BBY)**_**  
**  
Something tells him this will be his final visit.

These last few days, fraught with tense discussion over their child's future, have not been the idyllic respite he normally found. Both he and Sabé had jumped into their old philosophical arguments, so different now that Taria was a grown child with ideas and autonomy of her own. Despite this, they'd come to an agreement and retreated into the familiar comfort they'd always enjoyed, however infrequently.

And now he would bid her farewell for the last time. As they stand in the center of her suite, her fingers entangled with his; she smiles, all at once so brilliantly, drawing subtle lines on her face that make her look even more elegant than at thirty.

He has a brief glimpse of what it would have been like to live out his days happily with her, but pushes the fantasy immediately away. Instead, he draws forth all he feels for her and imbues his parting words with all that those emotions possess. "You saved me, milady. I can never thank you enough. I love you, Sabé," he confesses for the first time in fourteen years.

"And I you, Obi-Wan," she whispers. "I always have."

The utterance of his old name on her lips brings a smile to his. He draws her into his arms and they share a farewell kiss before Sabé withdraws to pull Taria into an embrace as well. He watches as his daughter flinches at her mother's touch, then grows solemn as they share hushed words of goodbye.

"I love you," he hears Sabé say. "We all do. Go forth and learn new things, but never forget what I've taught you. Be strong, and you'll do just fine."

Neither he nor the girl speak as they slip through the passageways to where his nondescript shuttle awaits. She slides into the seat next to him, and he feels every second of his fifty-three years. She's stately, stoic, and even more tentative than before.

He lifts off, and as he circles the ship around the palace and city that surrounds it, he sees her gazing at the landscape as if saying her own silent goodbye, and watches as tears well in her eyes. Reaching over to take her hand, he says nothing at first, merely lets a wave of comfort flow warmly over to her. When she responds with a wave of her own, he marvels at her innate control and smiles. "Very good," he says proudly.

Silence falls between them as they enter hyperspace. At first he thinks she's sleeping, until her soft voice cuts through the air asking, "How long will it take to get there? Where we're going."

"Dagobah, to where Master Yoda is, one of my old Jedi Masters. It'll only take us a day or two, I expect." Her face crinkles up as if dreading two days alone with him, which only makes him smile and recall...another...from so long ago. "I know that must seem terrible at the moment, cramped up in this tiny ship with an old man, but I hope that we can make the best of things. I want to know you, Taria, in what little time we have."

She says nothing for a moment, then, "I'd like that as well, Father."

Her name for him has changed, and strangely it cuts him deeply. But she is no longer a child, and he only has two days to realize this before he must put his focus elsewhere once more.

"I would also like to explain, if I can, why I haven't been able to be there for you. There's much going on that is bigger than all of us, and -"

"There's nothing to explain. The Force has called me, and I will answer. I will do my duty, you mustn't worry. I'll be fine."

Her words say one thing, but her emotions scream another. It takes every ounce of faith in the Force to believe her.

* * *

_**Four Years Later (0 BY)**_

Out of the millions of voices perishing with the soul of Alderaan, theirs are not among them.

They are alive, they are strong, and they will fight another day.

That's all he needs to know, to move forward with his own fight.

They'll meet again one day, once all duties have been fulfilled.


End file.
